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We are young and exceptionally blessed and there is no reason to feel the way we do or do the things we do the way we do them.

There is no reason not to do something exceptional, day after day after day.

You know you're in Africa when . . .

Yesterday I was hammering down on the last of my university assignments at Matt's apartment. I stepped out onto the balcony for some fresh air and saw the apartment building guard dog racing around the field in the next lot. He was charging back and forth frantically, smashing through the bushes like nothing could touch him.

Next, he starts fiercely rummaging through a particularly thick patch of tall grass and emerges with a large object in his mouth and trots, rather proudly, back through the gate into the apartment yard.

From where I was standing on the second floor I couldn't quite tell what he had snagged but whatever it was it looked like it had once been alive. I decided it was a bird, although it didn't really look like such, and was rather impressed that he had been able to bag a bird like that.

A few minutes later, as I was leaving the yard to head up town, I decided to pay the dog a visit on his stoop to further inspect what exactly it was he had found.

It was a severed goat head.

Mefloquine dreams

I'm standing over the dog on his stoop and he's chewing on the goat head, as he had been earlier that day. Except now there's something attached to head and is covered by a garbage bag.

I reach down and pull away the plastic to reveal a human torso stitched to the goat head with disproportionate and mismatched limbs sewed into the places where the arms and legs should have been.

Gotta love the pills.